


Situational Gravity

by LogosMinusPity



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series
Genre: Community: fangrai-forever, F/F, FRF 2014, Gift Exchange, anti-grav technology, lightning teaching fang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogosMinusPity/pseuds/LogosMinusPity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lightning teaches Fang how to use anti-grav technology, and to interesting effect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Situational Gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is dedicated to [Kay-yun](http://kay-yun.tumblr.com), as part of the [FangRai Forever 2014 Spring Gift Exchange](http://fangrai-forever.tumblr.com/post/82508120546/the-fabulous-fangrai-forever-feast-of-fandom-fun-and). I definitely struggled for a while to write a marginally fluffy gift (fluff is not my forte!), but I hope that this is still an enjoyable read.
> 
> Here's to FangRai!!!
> 
> Edits: Please take the time to check out this absolutely stunning art by [mistsomad](http://mistsomad.tumblr.com/post/82914407726/inspired-by-situational-gravity-by-logosminuspity), as inspired by this story. Mist's work is absolutely fantastic!

Lightning stood, arms crossed, silently mulling over the request that had been placed in front of her.

And decidedly _not_ looking at said requester in the face.

With anyone else—except, perhaps, Hope—the answer would have been a quick and immediate ‘no’, likely followed up with threatening ‘and don’t ever come back here again’.

She was still technically on the job, after all, never mind that she was at the base later than usual. 

There was no point in asking how Fang had been granted clearance to wait outside of Lightning’s locked office.  She had become a common enough face on the base in recent months that practically everyone knew “Lieutenant Farron’s sparring friend” by now.

Her fingers tightened against the thick fabric that covered her bicep, and she wished, not for the first time, that she were not decked out in her full, formal military dress.  Damn the tribunal panel she had been forced to take part in just a few hours past.  The white canvas jacket and skirt was perfectly pressed, the gold-lit pauldrons shimmering and the black leather belts and boots polished to a shine.  It was _supposed_ to be an intimidating look, the face of the military brass, cut to perfection.

She hated it.  All she wanted to do was get out of the formal clothes and back into her armor, her functional gunblade at her side—not this flimsy excuse for a “ceremonial sword” that currently hung at her hip.  Maybe it was different for the generals and higher level officers, but Lightning still worked in the field.  All she felt right now, with Fang staring her down, eagerly waiting for a response, was uncomfortable.  It took a renewed and conscious effort to keep from fidgeting and plucking at the decorative medals that rested over her chest.

“Please…” begged Fang again, looking every bit the part of both penitent and desperate.

Lightning’s first inclination was still to say ‘no’.  They _both_ knew how their current history held up when it came to teaching one another with weapons.  The last attempt from Fang trying to teach her how to properly use a bladed lance had ended only after several hours of misery, with a matching set of bruises on both of them, and a petty contest of wills in the silent treatment between the two of them that had lasted for nearly a week afterward, and only ended by the divine intervention of Serah and Vanille.

And that was to say nothing of Lightning’s original attempt to teach Fang about gunblades.

To be fair, it was hardly that either of them were inept.  But it always seemed to be just the perfect disastrous combination between the two of them.  One would get vexated by what failures they couldn’t seem to overcome, and then the other—never mind what good intentions there were—would only seem to exacerbate it.  And all it ever seemed to end up as was a spiteful playground brawl.

Really though, they worked wonders as partners when hunting and generally sparring, just apparently not in capacity as respective teachers and students.

Then again, they always did seem to come back for more.

_Even when past experience and intuition tells me otherwise_.

And it had been quite a while since she had last accompanied Fang on a hunt, or brought her into the base armory facilities for a good spar.  Work had been a complete and unrelenting devil lately, and considering how much time she normally liked to spend with Fang—and how little she had the past month—doing something, anything, would be nice.  Not to mention she should be off-shift for the coming weekend...

Another risked glance back at Fang revealed the exact same image she had been left with as before.

She was crouched over, palms flattened against each other and fingers pointed upward in the semblance of prayer, and pretty features twisting into a devastatingly desperate plea for a boon.  Lightning gritted her jaw and looked away from the damned puppy eyes that were being directed toward her.  No grown woman should have a look that was so bloody...effective.

She would _not_ be so easily manipulated, though.  Never mind whatever people might say about her generally having a weak spot for Fang.

They simply got along, was all.  They were cut of the same cloth.  Fang was one of the few whose company Light enjoyed, and who did not grate on her nerves.  It had absolutely nothing to do with anything else.  Certainly not about any non-platonic feelings she may or may not have been mulling over during her late nights at the base.

She looked back at the woman and problem in front of her.

“Stop that,” said Lightning finally, trying to sound as gruff as she could manage, and schooling her lips into a stern frown lest Fang see the way they were doing their best to twitch upward.  Really, for all of her self-proclaimed Yun pride, Lightning had long since learned that the woman was surprisingly silly at times.

“Does that mean…?” Fang eyes brightened as she straightened up, a victorious grin already beginning to spread across her lips.

Lightning rolled her eyes away, snorting. “You have too much free time on your hands, but yes already.  I promise to try to teach you anti-grav techniques, okay?” Then she allowed herself a teasing smile back, feeling marginally more like herself even with her dress uniform still on. “We’ll see if a viper can show a barbarian how to fly.  _Without_ any dragons involved.”

* * *

 

 Lightning could have laughed at how bleary-eyed and slow-footed Fang was when she picked her up at 0500 sharp two days later.

“Morning,” she greeted with unusual cheer, knowing full well that it would only make Fang groan.

Which it did.

“Don’t ‘morning’ me until the sun has properly woken up,” bemoaned Fang nearly flopped onto the velocycle. “Bloody nighttime still...ought to be in bed…”

Lightning ignored the way the heat jumped in her stomach as a pair of arms reached around lazily tightened about her waist.  A head drooped onto her shoulder.

“Mmm...you smell nice…” The words were whispered tiredly into her neck, and Lightning fought to avoid shivering at them.

Instead, she cleared her throat, passing a helmet back. “Put this on so you don’t die if you decide to fall back asleep and then fall right off.”

Of course Fang wouldn’t do that, but she complied, grumbling good-naturedly all the while.  Then her hands replaced themselves back around Lightning’s waist, and her breathy and low voice spoke into Lightning’s ear.

“Ready when you are, lieutenant.”

That warranted a rolling of eyes, even though Fang couldn’t see it.  Lightning gunned the engine, and routed them out of the settlement, due west toward where the Tarborean Range loomed on the horizon.

By the time they reached the rolling foothills of the mountain nearly an hour later, the sparse mountain forest was fully  illuminated with the bright rays of morning light.  Fang hopped off of the velocycle after Lightning, stretching widely while Lightning busied herself with preparing a base camp for the day.

When she pulled out a sturdy frying pan, she could practically feel Fang brighten up in expectation.

“Breakfast?” It was the first thing the woman had said since being picked up before their long ride out.

“I for one don’t plan on a day in the mountains without a good meal to start me off.”

“Aw right!” Fang happily planted one pointed end of her lance into the ground, and then gladly began assisting.

They moved about in a silently coordinated choreography, effective and efficient.  Lightning had gone on a variety of camping excursions with Fang since their l’Cie stint—long hunts, reconnaissance, even just weekend hikes to name a few.  She knew how to handle a campsite around Fang, and Fang her.

Lightning began to rustle through the small packs she had brought, pulling out the generous strips of meat and vegetables that she had sealed up the night before.  All the while, she heard Fang rustling behind her, gathering up choice sticks and pieces of tinder.  While she was adding seasoning to the meat she heard the tinder being assembled behind her, and she heard the whispered phrase of thanks to Lady Luck when it took to flame after just a few strikes.

By the time she turned around, prepared to cook, Fang was nursing an orange and crackling fire, ready for Lightning’s capable hands.

The sizeable cuts of behemoth steak went on first, sizzling as she seared the outside of the red meat, filling the air with a savory and pleasant aroma.   When she added in the vegetables over it, it was hard even for her to ignore the low rumble from her stomach.  The meager nutrition bar she had swallowed down hours earlier was long since digested and forgotten.

Even so, she was patient, waiting the extra minute until steaks and veggies alike were cooked to her own critical standard of perfection.

Fang was ready, a plate in either hand for when Lightning turned around to dump equal portions onto the hardy earthenware.

A moment later and as she deposited the emptied pan she was handed one of the plates, complete with a set of suitable utensils and a steaming mug of black coffee from the thermos she had packed.  She and Fang alike dug into their plates no sooner than sitting down, and the next few minutes were punctuated only by the steady and quiet sounds of contented chewing.

Lightning watched as Fang finally leaned back, letting out a contented sigh before taking a noisy slurp of her coffee. “Ah, Light...that was just what I needed after the early trek out here.  Nothing like a spike of fresh coffee and one of your behemoth steaks.  Best in town, no doubt about it.”

“A bit of an exaggeration, but I’ll remind you of it the next time we go out to dinner.”

Still, it was no small compliment, particularly considering it had been Fang who had first taught her to cook over an open flame.

Coffee finished, Lightning rose to put out the campfire while Fang collected and washed their few dishes.  Only once the camp was in order did she bother to holster her gunblade.

“Ready, Fang?”

“Always.” A white grin flashed at her. “Let’s start this anti-grav instruction then.  I’m all set to get hands on with your viper tech.”

 “Good.  Then let’s start moving.”

The initially excited look on the huntress’s face immediately fell as she began to realize the implication of what was being said.  Unable to help herself, Lightning smirked, nodding up toward the sheer and daunting rock face of the mountain before them. “First, we need to go up.”

“..couldn’t have been that easy…” muttered Fang, but she still slung her lance over a shoulder without complaint. “Well, let’s be on our way then, yeah?”

The trail was not a casual hike up, and even Lightning was breathing heavily when they finally reached their destination.

Lightning looked at around the plateau they had climbed to.  The mountain peak extended much further upward, but she was not looking to scale the whole of it.  The plateau they were on, with its wide and generous clearing and smattering of boulders, was perfect.  A quick survey of the cliff-side edge also showed that they were only a few hundred feet up from another mountainside clearing.

_Perfect_.

Nodding once to herself, Lightning signalled Fang to come closer.  She reached into a pouch at her belt, pulling out two gloves.  One was fairly worn and used, for all that it was well oiled and cared for.  She slipped that one onto a hand, a snug and familiar fit.  The leather was balding enough in areas that holes were on the verge of forming, and she absentmindedly noted that perhaps she would need to requisition a new glove for herself soon.  The other glove—new and spotless—she now offered to Fang.  Her fingers drifted almost lazily across the woman’s wrist and palm as she handed over the compact piece of technology, and she felt the heat of blood and life beating just below the skin.

Then she pulled back brusquely, busying herself for a long moment to ensure a second time that her own glove was well adjusted and snapped into proper place.  Only then did she look back up, lips tight and brow low with focus.

“Alright, Fang...you asked for an anti-grav lesson, so here we are.”

Fang nodded.  Her eyes were bright, and Lightning recognized the eager desire behind them.  Powers above could only hope that this would go better than time she tried to teach Fang with a gunblade.

A small sigh escaped between her teeth, and then she continued. “You understand the basic premise of the technology: it cancels the normal effects of gravity.  PSICOM originally designed it for airdrops, though there is a limit to how high you can do a jump from using this.  Besides drop capabilities, the generational models have been modified for combative use.”

“Like you use it,” interjected Fang.  Her eyes were calmed now, measuring and closed to whatever thoughts lurked behind them.

Lightning nodded once. “Like I use it.  But that doesn’t mean it’s for everyone,” she quickly tempered, and then wanted to curse at the way Fang’s eyebrows knotted in stubborn defiance. Fal’Cie help them both if this didn’t pan out. “There’s a reason why it’s not standard issue gear.  Most soldiers just don’t use it to full effect, and if you don’t use it to full effect, all it amounts to is dead weight technology.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Fang, clearly itching to get going. “I remember, Light.  You can skip the small talk. “Less talking, more doing, you know?”

Normally, Lightning would have given a sharp piece of her mind at the interruption.  She hardly spoke without reason, and she _was_ the source of knowledge here.  Instead, however, she merely crossed her arms and raised a single eyebrow, her back to the open and blue skyline.

“Alright, then...time to fall.”

Fang, who was busy grinning and flexing her now gloved hand, had to do a double take. “Wait...what?”

Lightning permitted herself a smirk at the confusion, and spoke again, uttering the same words. “I said, ‘fall’.”

And then she stepped backward and off of the face of the mountain.

“Holy shi—Light!  Ligh—”

Fang’s words were swept away as the wind rushed around her.  The world became a blur of blue and green and white.  She tucked her legs in to spin, and then flattened back out, controlling her terminal dive downward and readjusting so that she now fell headfirst, air blazing against her face hard enough to push tears from the corners of her eyes.

She blinked them away, focusing.

The ground was rapidly approaching, a blend of colors that should be a terrifying reminder of her encroaching mortality.

Instead, Lightning smiled.

And she snapped her gloved fingers.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and instantaneously a crackling and shimmering force field erupted into life across her skin and in the air around her, flecks of purple oscillating across the unseen barrier.

A moment later her feet struck the earth, and she landed in a perfect crouch, as comfortably as if she had jumped the distance of a mere foot or two, not several hundred.

Lightning straightened upright, pushing her astray hair back over her shoulder and clicking the anti-grav field back off.  She stretched, cracking her neck once, and then turned skyward with a smile.

She only had to wait another few seconds before Fang made her landing.  It was a hard, steady, and efficient landing, and not, Lightning decided, quite worthy of a ten out ten score.  Not that anti-grav technology was supposed to be about show and flare.

It only took a moment for Fang to collect herself.

“Abrupt, much?” she asked wryly, shaking her hair out into some semblance of order while fixing her with a dry gaze.

Lightning shrugged. “You’ve done an anti-grav drop once before, so I figured you would learn quickly.  And  besides, ‘less talking’, right?”

Fang laughed at that, clear and obviously pleased at the retort. “That I did.  Always liked that about you, Light—you take a woman for her word.”

“Come on then.  More doing.”

Not that it stopped Fang from complaining all the way on their second hike back up.  Or their third.

It was only after they had reached the plateau a fourth time, Fang shamelessly whining the whole of the ascent, that Lightning determined they were ready to move on.  Instead of walking back toward the ledge, she strode another twenty paces further into the rock-littered clearing, finally and fully pulling Blazefire free from her belt.

The blade snapped together with a quick flick of the wrist, and then she turned and faced Fang, quietly just as restless to truly begin testing Fang’s skills.  The huntress clearly had a full understanding of the basic grasp of anti-grav technology, but now was when the true testing would be begin.

“‘Bout damn time!” said Fang aloud.  She flourished her lance, setting herself ten feet away from Lightning, and giving her trademark hard and toothy grin.

They weren’t in one of the base’s cutting edge sparring decks, with the automated timers and loud buzzers, but neither of them needed that.  Neither of them needed to utter a word, to speak a meager countdown.  As soon as Fang gave one last twirl of her lance and settled it into both hands, legs wide and now slightly bent...Lightning knew.

She dropped her gunblade to her side, silver tip pointed deceptively toward the earth.  Her body turned sideways, left shoulder rotating forward and presenting the smallest target possible, with her own weapon half hidden behind her.

And then Lightning began to circle. 

She stepped slowly toward her right keeping her muscles just barely taut, and studying all the while.  Fang was doing similar, even if her stance was different.  She, too, was reverse circling, measuring and waiting, waiting to see who would strike first.

Today, though, was a day for action.

Lightning kicked off from the rocky ground, activating her anti-grav chip in the same motion.  It was hardly necessary, but it gave her that much more of an extra boost.  Besides, they hadn’t come all the way out to the mountains just for a regular bout of sparring, and Lightning was about to show Fang why.

Predictably, Fang caught the first blow easily against the side of her lance, but Lightning pressed in a half-second longer than normal.  Had her gaze been anywhere but trained unerringly on her opponent’s face, she would have missed the way the green eyes widened just the slightest fraction.  Fang had been expecting the attack, but not the extra force wielded behind it.

Then, just as quickly, Lightning bounced back, quickly taking her distance a second time and returning to her slow and calculated circling.

Fang only had just enough time to bring up her lance up as Lightning struck a second time.

Her blade clanged against the haft of the lacquered polearm, but this time she did not back off so readily.  Instead she stayed in close quarters pressing a series of blows, activating her glove periodically, disrupting the normal ebb and flow of her attack patterns that she knew Fang had come to recognize.  Still, the woman maintained her defense, shaky though it was becoming.

“Move, Fang!” ordered Lightning after briefly retreating again, her voice hard. “Or did you just want the glove to look pretty with it?”

The leveled taunt had the desired effect and as Lightning paused against the flat side of a boulder, held in place by her purple force-field, she saw Fang’s face darken with a glower at the barb.

Then she pushed off again with another burst as she cancelled the gravity field, propelling herself like a rocket toward her still-standing target.

This time, she went all out, dancing intricate patterns around the stationary huntress, slowly chipping away with each pointed calculated onslaught.

“Dammit, Light...not all of us are so bloody quick…” The curse was hissed out from between clenched teeth as Fang strained with the effort of blocking the barrage of attacks.  They sparred enough on a regular basis, leaving Lightning with little doubt that Fang was more than well enough equipped to handle her usual modus operandi of attack.

But she had also never sparred when Lightning was using full anti-grav, and she was rapidly struggling to maintain her usually impeccable defense.

Lightning knew how to use anti-grav better than anyone, had honed the method of grav-assisted combat over years of monster patrols on Bodhum Beach, had perfected it since the relocation to Pulse.

So when Lightning called herself the best, she wasn’t boasting.  She was stating a simple fact.

But even with her dynamic and assault, Fang had still yet to deviate from her stance and use her own anti-grav.  Growing impatient—they had trekked all the way out here for _anti-grav_ , after all, not just to spar—Lightning decided to try something different.

She abruptly reversed the grip on her blade, struck the final blow to her flurry, a violent and harsh finishing attack that forced Fang to defend at an awkward angle.  And then she pushed off from her blade and the lance it rested against, firing her anti-grav to deliberately put as much clout as possible behind the motion, and far more than what was defensively anticipated.

It had the exact desired effect she had been hoping for.

Fang’s lance flew from her fingers, forcibly ripped from her grasp by the unnatural strength of the blow behind it.

Lightning didn’t bother to pursue a second round of attacks, but stood back and gave ample time for the huntress to recover her weapon from where it had been knocked away.  Fang rounded back in a defensive position quickly, for all that Lightning had not continued to press her advantage

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” she grumbled, a dark scowl of embarrassment coloring her brow.

“Never.” Lightning responded automatically, without even thinking, and the glower only grew.

“It _won’t_ happen again.” Fang’s knuckles were white against the shaft of her lance.

_And I don’t doubt it._

This time Lightning’s thought remained unspoken; she was focused on Fang’s stance, on the silent challenge as they resumed.  Yet it was true.  She had gotten lucky with her “cute trick”—it was the exact kind of small and devious move that fit Fang’s repertoire better than her own.  And, indeed, Fang had used such tactics endlessly against her when they had first begun sparring, much to Lightning’s increasing chagrin.  They had eventually slowed and then stopped... _once_ she had wisened up to them, learned to counter them no differently than any slash or chop. 

It was only luck that allowed her to so effectively execute the disarmament.  Luck and surprise.  And Lightning was smart enough to count on neither.

Fang’s boast was not so idle, for all that it came from wounded pride; she would not let herself be caught unaware a second time, anti-grav or no.

Even so, Lightning was not about to relent.  She began another aggressive assault, bounding off of a boulder and flipping through the air, bringing her blade down in an unusually heavy two-handed slash.

Fang clicked her microchip, and leap backward.

It was a jerky movement, lacking finesse, but it was a start.  Lightning’s weapon cut through only vacant air and space, where the huntress had stood but a moment earlier.

She pulled her blade back quickly, and let the smallest of smiles touch her lips as she looked up at Fang. 

“About time, Fang.  And here I thought you were just going to waste the day away for both of us.”

That got a snort of derision in response, though Fang was beginning to smile again. “Don’t think you’ve got that much of an edge over me, Light.”

Her movements using the anti-grav were more staggered, jerky.  They lacked the seamless transitional ease with which Lightning operated, but it was still a large step up from Fang’s typical defensive tactics; though Lightning refused to show it in the midsts of combat, she was happy.  Perhaps the two of them weren’t irrevocably beyond teaching one another new tricks after all.

She deliberately eased her own barrage, giving Fang the opportunity to press her own series of counter attacks, allowing herself to pushed toward the open edge of the clearing.  In close-combat, Fang had yet to make use of the potential of her glove, but Lightning wasn’t surprised.  She had yet to encounter anyone who had taken to using anti-grav technology as quickly as she had when Amodar first sent her to specialized drop training.

Suddenly, Fang reversed the wide grip on her lance, twisted it up against Lightning’s sword and kicked in her anti-grav and...

...Lightning only half bit back the curse of fury when her Blazefire arched beautifully upward into the air, and over the side of the mountain.

There was no time to hesitate and stew over how Fang had used her very own trick against her, how she had masterfully lulled Lightning into a false sense of security over close-quarter engagements.  There would be time enough to kick herself over the lapse in judgement later.  But in the moment, if she didn’t have a weapon, she had no chance, which made her choice of options very, very clear.

Lightning didn’t even pause.  She darted away from her opponent, and took a running jump off the edge, diving after her stray weapon and snapping her glove at the same time for the extra boost.

Fang gave a wild whoop and launched after her.

It only took a quick moment before her gunblade was firmly back into her grasp.  She twisted around, bringing it up just in time to guard against a powerful slash from Fang’s lance.  There was enough force behind it to send Lightning reeling and spinning away, but she twisted her weapon, deliberately locked the hilt against the shaft of the polearm.  It was a move that she would normally avoid at all costs.  With weapons intertwined, advantage was always given toward the stronger of the two opponents, and Lightning had no such misconceptions over just who that was.  Even so, she pressed in close, speaking in tones so calm and controlled that she surprised even herself.

“Fang...my anti grav chip just died.”

In the span of a mere second, Lightning watched as Fang’s face spanned a myriad of emotions, going from infinitely self-pleased, to growing realization, and then to outright and scarcely concealed panic.

She could practically the read the thoughts zipping behind the green eyes, working frantically.  They were lurking behind her own mind, too, but she pushed them away.  Panic and fear were as useless as ever.

“...shit…”

Even through the wind, it was hard to miss Fang’s murmured and jagged curse.  They hadn’t stabilized their collective fall yet, and there were dwindling seconds left.

“Toss the weapons, Light!”

It didn’t even need to be voiced, though.  As soon as Lightning felt Fang releasing her lance she had let go of her gunblade.  The ground was getting close enough that whatever damage her sword sustained should be reparable; and she was hardly in a position to argue.

The weapons had no sooner spiralled away from them and then Lightning was pulled flush against Fang, one of the huntress’s strong and capable arms snaked around her waist, tight as a steel band.

“...hold tight…”

Lightning wrapped her own arms back around Fang’s neck at the strained whisper, and then heard the familiar click as Fang snapped her fingers and her microchip activated.  A moment later and the anti-grav force field burst into life, running in strange, secondary waves across Lightning as she was held close.

But the technology had hardly been designed with the idea of supporting two falling persons at once.

Lightning braced her muscles, tensing them for the impending impact not a moment too soon.

They slammed into the earth.  The anti-grav had done its job just enough, and there was no threat of injury, but it was hardly a graceful landing.  Their twisting fall caught the ground at an awkward angle.  Lightning took the brunt of it, Fang on top of her as they skidded up a mess of dust and topsoil from their crash.

Lightning coughed as the cloud of dirt around them.  It hurt to cough, though more from the effort of her lungs pushing against the extra weight of the woman laying on her rather than any true injury.  Granted, while Lightning had no doubt that she would have a fair share of sore muscles and bruises to champion come the next day, she felt otherwise fine.  She had taken far worse tumbles than this in her time.

There was a low groan from the body above, and for a moment a glimmer of worry urgently streaked through Lightning’s head as she shifted, trying to look at the woman still laying on her.

“Fang, are you okay?  I’m fine, but are you—”

_That_ got a response.  Contrary to only a few seconds earlier, Fang suddenly threw herself up, balancing on her hands in order to hover over and better look at Lightning.

“By the sleeping gods!” she roared, her face quickly going progressing from an unhealthy white to an unnatural red in a the space of a scant few seconds. “Are you daft in the head?!”

“Fang.” She tried to move, but with Fang still predominantly laying on her, she was stuck against the ground.

“You could have died!  You could have splattered across the mountainside!”

“Fang.” Looking at the face above her, Lightning felt the sudden and inappropriate urge to laugh at the unusual display of emotions. 

Really, she would have expected the positions to be quite the opposite if anyone had ever proposed such a scenario to her; their current role reversal made everything take on a more comical perspective to her.  Given how clearly upset Fang was, though—and rightfully so, Lightning rationalized—she pushed back her personal amusement and tried to calm her sparring partner.

“Fang, look—”

“Splattered!  Into little bits and pieces!  From a falling off a cliff!  After making it through the fal’Cie and everything—”

“Fang!”

“I would have had to explain to Serah why my brilliant idea led to her sister’s untimely bloody funer—”

Lightning didn’t even pause as she reached up to snag Fang’s dangling necklaces in her hand, boldly dragging her downward without a second thought as to what she was doing.

Fang had clearly been expecting something else when Lightning reached up toward her, and so had half brought up one arm up defensively when she was unexpectedly yanked, causing her to fall against Lightning even as she was pulled in for a kiss.

Their lips mashed together roughly, almost painfully.  It was clumsy and crude but as Fang emitted a muffled noise of surprise and their lips gradually eased and remolded, Lightning couldn’t have cared less.

Very slowly, they parted.

Lightning stared up into Fang’s eyes, at her pink and half-parted mouth.  She felt neither worried nor self-conscious as she waited for a response, filled with only the strangely bold and carefree attitude that seemed to have seized her.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Fang’s lips suddenly twisted, nostrils flaring.

“Is this how you get your kicks?” she asked, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Adrenaline-junkie, near-death experiences are your kind of turn on?”

Lightning was only half successful at choking back the bubbling laugh at the suggestion, and she let her head fall back onto the ground..  Her fingers twined through the coarse leather thong of the necklace, smiling contentedly as she felt something of the surge from the several hundred foot fall start to calm in her blood.

_Maybe Fang’s onto to something_ , she mused internally, lips curling at the silent joke. _Just imagine all the rumors that would start...as if there aren’t enough already…_

“—really, makes me a bit peeved considering that you never did anything during any of our past near-death experiences...I mean, had I known...all the missed opportunities—”

“Fang…” Lightning let her voice drop to another low but amused warning, and she began tugging on the necklaces again.

There was no need for it, though.

Fang dipped her head back down, resting the whole of her body weight on her dirtied forearms as she kissed Lightning again.  This time it was unrushed, practiced, and when Fang finally pulled back to almost languidly rest her head against a now propped up hand, Lightning found her breath coming in short, contented little gasps, her hand now only loosely entangled in the mess of hunter necklaces.

She let her eyes flutter closed as Fang reached across her face with her spare hand, pushing away the stray locks of hair from Lightning’s forehead and cheeks, textured leather of her anti-grave glove brushing across sensitive skin.

Then her eyes jerked back open when Fang dropped her entire body weight down against her, breath exhaling out in a loud whoosh.

“Fang?” she asked, trying to lift her head.  She was only marginally worried.

The huntress’s voice came muffled from within the curve of muscle that connected Lightning’s neck to her shoulder, a low chuckle. “Let’s just...save the life-threatening scenarios for a third or fourth date, okay?”

As she spoke, she pressed kisses along the length of Lightning’s exposed neck.  They were soft, almost tentative and nothing more, but even so, Lightning squirmed ever so slightly.  Another chuckle rumbled through Fang at that and she finally lifted her head back up, meeting Lightning with a wearied but glittering gaze.

“Too bad, and here I’d been thinking of inviting you out to a front line operation for culling the chocobo eater populat—mmph.”

Lightning allowed herself to be silenced with a long kiss.  This time afterward, Fang’s face was the very definition of smug. “Oh, I think I could definitely get used to this...even if my girlfriend is crazy enough to get my attention by throwing herself off a cliff.”

Lightning did roll her eyes at that, and finally pushed Fang up from her, which her aching muscles _did_ appreciate, even if she already found herself yearning to draw close to Fang again.  They both dusted off as best they could, reclaimed their now mangled weapons.  Even the impending maintenance couldn’t sour the mood, though.

This time, feeling marginally more like her usual self, Lightning wavered for a brief second; but then she pushed through, reaching out and snagging Fang’s still-gloved hand within her own.

Her cheeks only burned briefly when she felt fingers twine around her own.

“What say we call it for a day, Light?  You drive our sorry arses back to town, and then we clean up and I take you out for dinner, pay you back for those steaks this morning.  You can even stay at my place tonight, even in my bed if you like.”

The last bit was said with the suggestive waggle of eyebrows, but it was impossible to miss the hopeful, serious proposition behind it.

Lightning squeezed Fang’s hand, leaned softly against the shoulder that was next to hers.

Anti-grav and sparring be damned for once. 

A day just spent with Fang sounded perfect to her.

 


End file.
